Throne of ash

Do you think I wanted this throne of bone?

Do you think I asked for storms to call my own?

Power’s a hunger — and I just fed it too long.

Every plea becomes a chain,

Every mercy turns to pain.

They call me goddess, call me queen,

But no one asks what the crown has seen.

I’ve burned my hands to keep them warm,

I’ve fed them peace with my own storm.

If sin is what their safety costs,

Then let my soul be what’s lost.

Bow if you must — I’ll take the blame,

I’ll wear the thunder, I’ll bear the flame.

Heaven fell silent, I filled that sky,

With a heart made of gold… and a crown made to die.

Their prayers taste sweet, but poison slow,

Each “save us” digs the deeper below.

They see a savior, not the scars,

Not the ghosts I hold behind the stars.

Every law I break, I name as love,

Every sin I lift to heaven above.

For them, I kill, for them, I lie—

So who am I when the storms run dry?

I hear their cries in every wind,

Their faith’s the blade beneath my skin.

If mercy’s gone and hope’s a ghost,

Then let me be the one they loathe the most.

(instrument swell — strings, low choir, storm rumble)

Kneel if you will, but know this truth:

I bleed like mortals — I burn for proof.

For every soul beneath my sky,

I traded my wings for the power to fly.

So if you curse my name tonight…

Remember who I saved with light.

(soft echo)

The crown still burns… but it’s all I’ve got.